The other day, as I walked through the city, for the first time in my life I didn’t feel old, I didn’t feel like I had anything or anyone, I owed no respect or satisfaction. I stopped amid the chaos of people surfing their lives on the sidewalk, giving in to the stumbles of those who passed by and were in a hurry, I abandoned myself to the emptiness of the urban sky wounded by the buildings, I stopped. For the first time, I did not apologize, even if it hindered the movement of passers-by and beggars in a hurry or saddened. For the first time, I felt in control.
Did I release my body trapped in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the dining room, empty rooms over the years. The wounded loneliness of the skin that gives way. Years lost in family dreams. I discovered that every year of mine I had 365 special days, not just Christmas and New Year’s Eve, not just wedding celebrations and births. I remembered the pearls stored in the Youth Music Box, Horcio said at our first meeting that I was more beautiful than them. I ran home, broke the cord, threw them into space. They were beautiful, more beautiful than I’ve ever been!I was more glad to see them, bouncing off the ground than the words of the lover suffocated by the reality of time.
- As soon as I walked through the door and performed my first act of rebellion.
- I went to the construction shop.
- I painted the walls pink.
- As I always wanted.
- Fast as a child.
- As a motivated girl.
- Perverting unwanted memories.
- Invited the workers to disassemble the intact parts.
- Changed the furniture.
- I have made a thousand plans for the short future that awaits me.
- Although in this phase of life death is always at the door.
- Today I can dream how I could never stay between giving.
- Feeding.
- Caring.
- Taking.
- Searching.
- This sweet life as it loves from home that I learned to love in my youth.
You know, I willingly went to marriage, without love, leaving it in the marked pages of the books, hidden, which took me to night through sinful universes, while Horcio explained his sins all night. When a cry sprouted from the cradle, I pretended it was mine, so I could hold back my tears taken from yours. My fever praised your viruses. My rage embedded in your pain. Me in the carriage of life, you my dear wheels, Horcio guiding the horses, until, each by his side, I was left alone and lost, looking at the decomposition of the tanned wood, until I could no longer. endure termite bites that infested rotten memory.
Divorced at 55, did I dream of finishing the golden anniversary?I didn’t see any sense in it. It is the revolt that led me, the unbearable bitter bile, that turns us into a snake and distills poison in every word. forgiveness for suffering bitterly after losing all my youth for cultivating something that was nothing to anyone but me. I know I wasn’t alone because of the few whims of the years after the separation: how many I see that they have healed, consecrated, slowed down. fires exhaust their last forces and are now abandoned in their illnesses, in their madness, in their solitary old-age cages. We, no one, should never be deprived of life.
Thank you for the abandonment that set me free. You can say I’m dramatic, and I am, now I can be what I want to be and I no longer need to be the best of what I’ve been taught to be. Without my wheels or my guide, way and feel the ground, without high expectations, I no longer care about the direction of the road, I don’t know where I’m going or how far I can go, but I know that my heart took on a new life by looking at me in the mirror, instead of seeing the opacity of what was gone, I saw the vitality of what was born in me , cracks drawn on the skin of my face and body, seeds were born, seedlings sprouted ready to grow in the world.
I no longer have any responsibility, I no longer have any morals that I can, I use sick leaves, dying roots, expel pests and dead weight, grow the land of my experiences with the fertiliser of love, the one I thought I had lost in the pages of the books, but who found myself looking me in the mirror, looked very deeply into the eyes, and saw a shy glow that never came out of the door , who never let himself loose in the face of all the modesty that surrounded me from the first cry?I bet until I was born I was discreet. Until I realized what was going on so recently.
You’re criticizing me now for saying I’m too old for that. Even if Horcio doesn’t say a word that questions his “young guard” life, I was silent and almost gave up. But I saw that my body no longer belonged to the living room, bedrooms, kitchen or garden. My garden body, my room, feeds all the food I need, gives rise to the life that comes. My whole body: mine! I learned from the same therapist you mentioned and today I laugh at the shards when I get stones from those with whom I cleaned my dirty white ass and changed my diaper always on time, and I was just as good and correct, according to the good. and right that I knew they were like that, as the only truth.
That’s not what it was. If I have to apologize for a mistake, it’s because I was so good and so stupid, it’s because I tried so hard to be ‘complete’ that I sinned on the zeal of affection and treatment, paying no attention to the lack that was missing. That lack that would make it clear that Mom is a woman, but I don’t even regret that, because Horcio didn’t help me and I didn’t have to find out for myself that fast. maybe today you’d be full of stigma, with the marks of other people’s stones.
I am my way, my way. I have no intention of ending my life by repeating pose for the coffin. My marriage is just the beginning. But bring faces or smiles, it is with love and affection that the pink walls await you to chat and drink Single wine, you know, I will always throw a nice bouquet, insist that they come, insist that they deconstruct. Do you know why? You my little angels will always be babies in my heart, only that they have shown it so well, even with the disappearance, that you no longer need a mother, that the mother was gone off the cliff, if there is time, who knows. , we can be more, be more than mother and children: we can be friends.